


Torches

by RogueTranslator



Series: Schism [3]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Angst, Friendship, M/M, McDean, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTranslator/pseuds/RogueTranslator
Summary: John Paul and Hannah meet for a meal, but a chance run-in with Craig leads to a row.This takes place in March 2007, after John Paul and Hannah have started speaking again but before John Paul went out with Spike for the first time. I wanted more scenes of John Paul and Craig encountering each other in this time period--after all, they see each other every day at school, but we don't get to see those interactions. So, I decided to write one.This is a sequel to "Brotherly Advice."
Relationships: Craig Dean/John Paul McQueen
Series: Schism [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550134
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Torches

Hannah looked up from the menu and waved to John Paul, her hair catching the midday sun. “John Paul!”

“Hiya.” John Paul walked up to the table and pulled out the chair across from her. “Sorry if I got here a bit late, mum needed my help with moving some things around the house. She’s given Jacqui and Alek her room.”

“No, you’re alright, I got here early.” Hannah gulped down a sip of water. “Where’s, um, she sleeping, then?”

“On the sofa.” John Paul shrugged and picked up his menu. “I told her it won’t be good for her back, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Still, that’s really nice of her.”

“I guess,” John Paul said ambivalently. “I just wish all of it weren’t happening.”

“What, the marriage?”

“No, the—” John Paul shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

They both read their menus for a while. John Paul shifted in his chair, moving his face out of the sun.

“Er—thanks for meeting me,” Hannah said, flicking her eyes up.

“Thanks for inviting me out.” John Paul lay his menu at the side of the table and scanned around Il Gnosh, which was fairly quiet for noon on a Saturday. “It’s great to have an excuse to not be home right now, believe me.”

“Oh, it’s no bother.” Hannah reached up and stroked the ends of her hair. “We could even make it a regular thing. You know, so that you can get out of there once in a while.”

“I’m mainly glad to no longer feel like a total pariah.” John Paul leaned backwards, stretching his spine along the chairback. “It’s really kind of you, you know. To want to be mates still.”

“Don’t be daft, of course I do!” Hannah reached across the table and slid her hand over his. “It’s not like it’s your _fault_ that you’re—the way you are.”

John Paul looked down at her hand. “Maybe not, but I still shouldn’t have lied.”

“We’re—” Hannah nodded once, with purpose. “We’re past this, aren’t we.”

“Yeah.” John Paul nodded back and brought his hands to his lap. “By the way, I’m ready to order if you are.”

“Oh, I am, yeah.” Hannah waved to the server.

“I’ll get this,” John Paul said, as the server dusted his hands on his apron and walked over. “Call it part of my apology.”

“No, really—”

“Please,” John Paul interrupted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, alright,” Hannah said, beaming up at the server. “Twist my arm, why don’t you. I’ll have the chicken sandwich and a coke, please.”

“For me, the Caesar salad.” John Paul closed his menu. “And an orange juice.”

“Salad, huh?” Hannah’s eyes followed the server as he walked away. “Watching your figure?”

“Come off it,” John Paul said, chuckling.

“No, I’m serious! I heard that there’s a lot of pressure to be thin in the gay community.”

John Paul quirked an eyebrow. “From who, your fairy godmother?”

Hannah rolled her eyes and raised her glass of water to her lips.

“Sorry,” John Paul said. “I’m just—sick of people treating me like some kind of novelty, you know? Especially Carmel, she’s doing my head in constantly with her stereotypes.”

“And that’s what you think I’m doing?”

“Not really.” John Paul looked out at the courtyard, where the daffodils and crocuses in the flower boxes were opening up to the early spring. “I know you’re just being a mate. It’s probably more my problem, you know? I don’t think I’m fully comfortable yet with being gay.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I mean, it all happened so quickly. One day I was just an ordinary bloke, the next, everyone in the entire school knew. I didn’t have time to get my head around it.” John Paul shut his eyes to the sun. “I still haven’t, in some ways.”

“But—” Hannah paused; John Paul turned back to her. “You are sure, aren’t you? About being gay.”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Pretty much?”

“The thing is, I haven’t had a boyfriend yet. Jacqui reckons that I need to actually do all the, you know, standard things before I can be completely sure. But she might just be talking bollocks.”

“What sort of things?’”

John Paul arched his eyebrows. “You know what things.”

“Oh.” Hannah shifted in her seat. “Right, yeah.”

The server returned to their table; Hannah looked at her sandwich and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?” John Paul speared a few leaves of cos with his fork. “That’s what you ordered, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s just enormous. I doubt I’ll even be able to finish half of it, let alone the crisps.”

John Paul shrugged. “Looks like a normal sarnie to me.”

“That’s because you’re a bloke and six foot! I’m a lot smaller than you, you know.”

“Alright, Hannah,” John Paul said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, no one’s bothered whether you finish it or not.”

“You got that right,” Hannah muttered.

“Sorry?”

Hannah shook her head and smiled cheerily.

“So, how about you?” John Paul said, sprinkling some black pepper over his salad.

“Eh?”

“Well, I’ve moaned about my lack of a boyfriend. I’m only hoping you’ve had better luck.”

Hannah nibbled at the corner of her sandwich. “I’ve dipped my toe in the water, but there’s nothing definite yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll find—”

“I’ve mostly been focusing on revising,” Hannah said abruptly. “It’s already March; exams will be here before we know it.”

“Yeah, of course.” John Paul washed down a bite of salad with orange juice. “That’s more important anyway, isn’t it? I should really pull my finger out; I’ve hardly started.”

Hannah was chewing but nodded her assent. “Yeah, you don’t want to end up like Craig, do you?”

They shared an awkward laugh. John Paul picked at his salad, increasing the speed at which he was eating.

“We could revise together, if you fancy it.” Hannah stared down at her sandwich. “It might be easier if we’re keeping each other honest.”

“Yeah, there’s an idea. Even if it’s just once in a while. Maybe we could rope Nancy into it as well, eh? Sarah, too, though that might get a bit weird.”

Hannah brushed her serviette over her lips. “You know that Craig and Sarah are back on, right?”

“Yeah.” John Paul swirled a crouton around at the edge of his plate. “Yeah, Sarah told me. Not like I didn’t know already. I mean, they spend more of their time at school snogging than studying.”

“She told you? So, you and her are okay, then?”

John Paul shrugged. “I guess. She’s not one to hold a grudge, is she?”

“Evidently not, since she got back with Craig.” Hannah watched the movements of John Paul’s hand as he played with his food.

“That’s a bit different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was her boyfriend, wasn’t he? Whereas I was just a mate of hers who tried it on with him.” John Paul sighed, dropped his fork, and sat back in his chair. “She’s bound to blame it all on me."

“I don’t think she does, John Paul.” Hannah leaned forward and cupped her hand over his gingerly. “And I feel terrible that I was the one who started all this. If I’d just kept my mouth shut, tried talking to you, none of this would’ve happened. We’d all still be friends, like before. Everything’s so awkward now.”

“Hannah, you need to stop blaming yourself, alright? It wasn’t you who started anything. That was down to me and Craig. If we hadn’t kissed each other—I mean, I’d still be gay, but—"

“But—” She squeezed his hand for emphasis. “I thought you said that the kiss was one-sided?”

“It was,” John Paul replied, after a moment. “I think.”

“You think.” Hannah brought her hands to her lap and looked up at the light pouring in from the street. “Don’t go changing your story now, John Paul.”

“I’m not. It’s just—”

“It’s just what?”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Hannah said cagily.

“Especially not Sarah.”

Hannah snorted. “What exactly do you think of me? I’m not the sort of person who goes around stirring things.”

“No, no. Of course not.” John Paul took a deep breath and glanced towards the back of the restaurant. “Actually, I need the bog. Do you mind?”

“John Paul.” Hannah crossed her arms, staring him down. “What’s up with you? You’re acting really weird.”

“It’s—” He exhaled and looked down. “I mean, even if I did kiss him, like he says, he was the one who pulled me in first.”

“Well, you were both drunk, weren’t you? Maybe he just holding on to you for support.”

John Paul quirked his lip sceptically. “Maybe. But he also said ‘I love you.’”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Well, yeah, I saw the whole thing, remember?”

“You never said.”

Hannah uncrossed her arms and let out a sharp breath. “What, you don’t think I’d said enough as it was?”

“Yeah, I guess.” John Paul smiled wanly and started picking at his lettuce again. “But the weird thing is—and I’ve gone back over it so many times in my head by now, so I don’t think I’ve got it wrong—he kissed me back. He did. Like, he angled his head—”

“Alright, I don’t need the details,” Hannah interjected.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, so he kissed you back.” She shrugged. “What difference does it make now?”

“None, I guess.” John Paul took a sip of his water. “None whatsoever.”

The two of them went quiet for a while. The music from the speaker above their table faded out, then into a new track.

“Wait.” John Paul looked up at her again. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I knew what?”

“That he kissed me back. Come on, you don’t seem too surprised.”

“Maybe. I guess. But I don’t sit around thinking about what I saw that night, you know.” Hannah pulled at the sleeves of her jumper. “I’ve tried to forget about all of it, to be honest.”

“I don’t blame you,” John Paul said, rubbing his eyes. “Sometimes I wish none of it had ever happened.”

Hannah laughed; John Paul watched her, bemused.

“What happened to ‘we’re past this?’ We’re a right pair of numpties, aren’t we?”

“No argument from me,” John Paul said, laughing as well. “Me more than you, though.”

“I don’t know, I think we’re about the same.”

They trailed off into a companionable silence. Hannah raised her coke to her lips, then lowered it before drinking any.

“Don’t you miss him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” John Paul said. “He isn’t who I thought he was, so we can’t be mates anymore. End of.”

“Yeah, but I can tell you’re upset—”

“No, Hannah. Let’s just leave it.” John Paul glanced down at her plate. “Aren’t you going to finish your sandwich?”

Hannah sighed and placed her hand on her belly. “No, I’m stuffed. It’s like I said, I didn’t think it’d be so big. Do you want the other half?”

“I wasn’t dropping hints.” John Paul laughed.

“I know.” Hannah pushed the plate towards him. “Really, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

They both looked up at the door of Il Gnosh, their smiles fading out as Craig walked in. His eyes met theirs, then darted away.

“Speak of the devil,” Hannah muttered.

“Okay, now I really need the bog.” John Paul ducked his head down and hurried to the back of the restaurant, only daring to take a breath again once he was leaning against the inside of the toilet door.

* * *

Craig’s eyes followed John Paul’s back as he vanished through the door to the toilets. He turned to Hannah and smiled listlessly, then walked to the bar and fiddled with his mobile.

“Alright?” Hannah sidled up to him and leaned against the counter. “Fancy joining us?”

“I’m meeting Sarah,” Craig mumbled, staring down at his phone.

“Why don’t we make it a foursome, then? We’re all _friends_ , aren’t we?”

Craig sighed. “Hannah, you know the score between me and John Paul. What is it that you actually want?”

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to talk to a mate. But then again, you’ve got form for that, haven’t you?”

Craig pressed his lips together and stared across the length of the bar, then out the window.

“But you’re right,” Hannah continued. “We’re not all friends anymore. Mainly because you behaved like a homophobic idiot and kicked John Paul’s head in.”

“Not this again.” Craig turned back to her. “Change the record, Hannah. That was a month and a half ago.”

“What, so I should just give you a wide berth, like he does?” Hannah let out a huff. “Fat lot of good that’s doing him. He’s saying he doesn’t give a toss about you. Problem is, he’s never been as good at putting up a front as he thinks he is.”

“He said that?” Craig rubbed his neck. “You’re exaggerating.”

Hannah straightened up. “The opposite, actually. His exact words were that you should drop dead.”

Craig blinked rapidly, then stared down at his mobile again.

“What, nothing to say?”

“Just leave it, Hannah. My relationship with John Paul isn’t any of your business.”

“Oh, so you think the two of you have any sort of relationship? Because that’d be news to him.”

Craig dropped his fist to the counter; one of the servers glanced at him. “Look. He knows how sorry I am. He knows my number. I’ve done my part. It’s up to him to come to me.”

“How do you figure that?” Hannah glanced at the door to the toilets and let out a whiff of indignation. “You barely tried to patch things up. He reckons you’re not even sorry!”

“He—” Craig’s voice rose, then broke. “He knows I am, okay? What’s got into you, anyway? John Paul can fight his own battles.”

“I just want him to be happy, that’s all.” She shrugged and looked at the door again.

“Ah.” Craig’s eyes widened; he looked Hannah up and down, smirking. “Ah, I see what this is.”

Hannah crossed her arms. “Oh, care to share your brainwave?”

“You’re still carrying a torch for John Paul,” Craig said, under his breath. “That’s what all this is about!”

“You what?”

“You heard.”

They both glanced at the back of the restaurant as John Paul pushed open the door to the toilet.

“Tell me again which one of us can’t accept John Paul’s sexuality?” Craig said viciously.

“Why don’t you just shut your face?” Hannah shouted.

“Whoa, whoa!” John Paul rounded the bar and stood between them. “What’s going on here? Are you alright, Hannah?”

Hannah stared daggers at Craig. “Why don’t you ask him? He seems to think he knows everything.”

“I’m asking _you_ ,” John Paul said. “What’s happened? Is he winding you up?”

“Right.” Craig rotated on the stool to face him. “Because according to you, everything’s always my fault, isn’t it? That’s something the two of you have in common, at least.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” John Paul said, still looking at Hannah.

“No, you weren’t.” Craig glared up at him. “You’d rather ignore me and carry on feeling sorry for yourself.”

John Paul turned to him slowly. “What did you just say?”

“Oh, talking to me now, are you?”

Hannah let out a long breath and shook her head. “You’re pathetic, Craig.”

“ _You_ are,” he said. “At least I’m not living in some fantasy world.”

Hannah’s lip quivered; she ran to the table, picked up her coat, and left the restaurant.

“Hannah!” John Paul called, as the door swung shut behind her.

“Leave her,” Craig said, standing up. “You running after her won’t do her any good.”

“Oh, so first you know what’s best for me, and now Hannah?” John Paul spun around and stared at him, seething. “There’s no limit to your arrogance, is there?”

“I—” Craig took a breath and averted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, okay. I guess all that rubbish that just poured out of your mouth is alright, then, now you’ve said that.”

Craig looked into John Paul’s eyes and smiled ruefully. “I just can’t win with you, can I? I apologise, you knock me back. You blank me for a month and a half, Sarah blames me for not grovelling at your feet. Hannah has a go at me, it’s my fault. I tell you I’m sorry, you throw it back in my face. Well you know what? It’s getting really old. Not all of this is my fault.”

“Poor you,” John Paul said, narrowing his eyes.

“How do you think all this makes me feel?” Craig blinked and drew in a sudden breath. “You think I like it? Us not talking, everyone thinking I’m some kind of villain?”

“I’m not that bothered about how you feel, to be honest.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Did you think about my feelings when you beat me up? Eh?” John Paul put his hands on his hips. “How about—how about the last six weeks, when I’ve been getting called every name in the book at school, and you just sit and watch? Do you think about how I’m feeling then?”

“I’d fight your corner,” Craig said, staring up into John Paul’s eyes. “I would, if you let me.”

“Really? And what would Sonny have to say about that?”

Craig rolled his eyes. “He’s a muppet. You know I’d rather be mates with you.”

“I don’t know that, actually.”

“Why—” Craig swallowed and looked down at their feet. “Why do you have to be like this? I’ve said I’m sorry, haven’t I? John Paul, I just want things to go back to how they were.”

Craig watched John Paul’s trainers move towards him, almost imperceptibly. His fingers touched Craig’s shoulder. Craig raised his head into the sunlight and watched as John Paul's lips opened and closed in the quiet hum of the restaurant.

“Craig. Craig, I—"

“Oi!”

They looked sidelong at the door; Sarah was releasing the handle and walking towards them. John Paul dropped his hand to his side.

“What are the two of you doing?”

John Paul shrugged. “Nothing?”

“Yeah, you got that right. I’ve just spent the last few minutes with Hannah; she ran out of here in bits. Why didn’t either of you go after her?”

John Paul glanced at Craig.

“It’s my fault. I said we should leave it.” Craig stood up and reached for Sarah’s hand.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t think so. First, you’re going to tell me what exactly happened. She said you were horrible to her.”

“Is she still out there?” John Paul zipped up his jacket.

“No, I walked her part of the way home.” Sarah gave him a feeble smile. “She told me that the two of you had a nice lunch, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was nice.” John Paul smiled back at her. “I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

John Paul rounded the nearby table without looking at Craig and walked out of Il Gnosh.

“Were—” Sarah turned to Craig, her lips pursed quizzically. “Were the two of you actually talking?”

“More arguing than talking.” Craig’s eyes followed John Paul as he hurried down the pavement, passing into and out of the view of each of the restaurant’s windows before vanishing.

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t say that’s a good thing, but it’s better than him blanking you, don’t you think?”

Craig turned to Sarah and glared. “You know, I was actually getting somewhere with him before you barged in. I was this close—” Craig held up his thumb and forefinger; his hand was trembling. “—This close to getting him to crack. Why’d you have to go and ruin it?”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “Barged in?”

Craig looked up at the ceiling and gritted his teeth.

“Craig, I couldn’t have known what the two of you were talking about before I got here. Or that you were speaking at all, come to think of it.”

“No, but you could’ve walked in like a normal person,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Instead of shouting your mouth off like some irritating fishwife.”

“You what?”

Craig balled his fists at his hips and leaned in closer to Sarah’s face. “You. You ruined everything.”

“Oh, you know what Craig, get stuffed.” Sarah spun around and marched to the door.

“Sarah!” Craig shouted, running after her. “Sarah, wait!”

“Get out of my way, Craig.”

“Please.” Craig reached around her and held the door closed. “Sarah, I’m sorry.”

“Where do you get off speaking to me that way?” She stared out at the street through the glass. “I mean, I know you’re cut up about John Paul, but it’s not my fault that you’re not talking to each other.”

“I know!” Craig placed his free hand on her shoulder; she tensed, but didn’t throw him off. “Look, Sarah, it’s my mess. I’m not blaming you.”

“Oh, really? Then what was all that about me being a—fishwife, was it? That’s what you think of me? That I’m some annoying nag?”

“No! It just came out, I don’t know. I was upset about John Paul, upset with myself.” Craig shuffled around her to look into her eyes. “Please, Sarah, you know I feel bad about what happened with John Paul. And you’ve been so understanding.”

“Yeah, and this is the thanks I get.” Sarah dabbed the back of her hand to her face.

“No—look, you know that I never really had mates before John Paul. I didn’t fit in; I was always a loser.” Craig slid his arm around her back and walked them to a nearby table. “He was the first person outside of my family who I was close with.”

Sarah sat down and nodded. “Yeah, you told me that.”

“John Paul—he liked me for me. And that felt pretty good.” Craig closed his eyes and angled his head into the afternoon sun, savouring the lingering memory of John Paul’s voice, soft and fraying and on the cusp of opening to him again. _Craig._ _Craig, I—_

“Well, so do I.” Sarah’s voice broke in, filling the aching silence that came after those words. Craig felt her hand stroking his, inviting him back.

“I know.” Craig opened his eyes and smiled. It was convincing enough to get her to grin, breathe deeply, and look down at her menu, moving on from the moment. If nothing else, the last few years had taught him how to front out the heartache. “That’s why I love you.”

“And I love you,” Sarah murmured, without looking up. Her leg leaned into his. In the secret place in his mind where Craig kept his joy and pain hidden away, John Paul’s voice, ephemeral and warm, echoed hers. _I love you_.


End file.
